


wasted on you.

by katarama



Series: leave this blue neighborhood. [14]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Attraction, BDSM, Bondage mentions, Frame - Freeform, M/M, Praise Kink mentions, past sex, smoking mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: Kent talked big on the phone, laughed it off and acted like the idea of having sex with Jack was impossible.  As far as Kent knows it is.  As far as Kent knows, Jack wants nothing to do with Kent these days.  Until Jack puts his money where his mouth is and walks outside, Kent isn’t going to let himself think anything different.There’s a difference, though, between acknowledging something as impossible and not wanting it.





	wasted on you.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  **If you're new to this series, start[HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10586022).**

**January 2018**

 

 

_Swoops: Be careful picking up tonight.  Word on the street is that Zimmermann’s out, so everyone’s got their cameras ready_

Kent barely even waits until he’s out of the club, walking past the security guard to the roped off area for the too-drunk people and the tourist smokers who are used to taking it outside, before he’s pressing the green button on his phone, listening to it ring once before Troy picks up.

“Trust me, I know Zimms is out,” Kent says.  His fingers itch for something to do, and for probably the only time in his life ever, he wishes there were someone else around back.  Someone he could bum a cigarette from.  He hasn’t smoked in a very long time, and definitely not this sober, but the thought is there.  Something to calm him down.

Not that he doesn’t have enough bad habits he’s working on kicking as it is.  Not that picking up smoking, even as an occasional thing, wouldn’t make every single person in the Aces organization want to wring his neck.

“Oh no,” Troy says, recognizing Kent’s tone too quickly.  He does that.  Kent still isn’t sure how.  “What are you planning?  Where are you?  Please tell me you aren’t hooking up.  Are you doing something I need to be concerned about?”

“Nah, Swoops,” Kent says.  “I haven’t done anything.”   _Yet_.  “I’m outside the club waiting.  You know, the usual place, the roped off area out back?”

“Waiting for what?” Troy asks, too calmly.  Still too knowing.  Goddammit.

“...Zimms,” Kent concedes.  “If he shows like he said he would.”

“You didn’t tell me you weren’t hooking up,” Troy notes.  This time he’s being _too_  observant, noticing things that aren’t there.  “Please tell me you aren’t-”

Kent laughs before Troy can even finish that train of thought.  It’s painfully self-deprecating, as far as laughs go.  “I’m pretty sure he’d rather be kicked in the nuts.”

“I don’t know, he might be into that kind of shit,” Troy says.  Kent is definitely fucking not going to confirm or deny that, because Swoops isn’t right, not exactly, but he also isn’t entirely wrong.  Swoops knows, has some sort of vague awareness that something wasn’t entirely chaste or vanilla with Jack and Kent, but that.

That’s something that Kent would not tell Troy in a million years.

“I’m hanging up on you,” Kent says, and promptly does.  He’ll apologize later.  He presses the home button and waits for a follow-up text, but it doesn’t come immediately.  He watches the light dim and go off before he finally pockets his phone.

He tries to distract himself, tries to take in the scene around him to clear his thoughts, but there’s no one and nothing really there.  All he’s got are Swoops’ words in his head, dragging up old mental images he tries not to dwell on.

Swoops has him thinking about hooking up with Jack now.

Goddammit.

Kent talked big on the phone, laughed it off and acted like the idea was impossible.  As far as Kent knows it is.  As far as Kent knows, Jack wants nothing to do with Kent these days.  Until Jack puts his money where his mouth is and walks outside, Kent isn’t going to let himself think anything different.

There’s a difference, though, between acknowledging something as impossible and not wanting it.

Kent does, with Jack.  Actually, actively want it.  He can’t say that about sex most of the time, even though he does it a lot.  He can’t say that the sex is usually about much beyond craving touch and approval.  Craving someone else’s pleasure.  

And to some extent, it might have been that with Jack.  To some extent, there was some of that inextricably wound up in what they were doing.  The ties they repurposed because the internet said that using hockey tape was a very serious no-go.  The instructions that Jack gave Kent the authority to issue, that Jack _wanted_  Kent to give, _no coming_  or _hold still_  or _ask nicely_.

Kent liked all of that stuff.  He liked the rush of it.  He liked the way it made him feel in control.  He liked the way it made Jack go boneless and breathless, the way it let him be honest with Kent.  About what he wanted, what he needed.  About what felt good for him, even the little things Kent did that he wouldn’t have imagined sex without.  Kissing Jack’s tummy and thighs and telling him how amazing he is, telling Jack when he did something right, did just what Kent asked.  He liked the way Jack glowed and flushed and begged and moaned and shook.  He liked the way Jack got soft after, when Kent pressed close and kissed him, when Kent was awed and sated and also a little bit terrified at the fact that Jack Zimmermann was letting him do this, that Jack was trusting him with so much.

It was a lot.  It felt like a lot, down to Kent’s core.  Kent may not have always been the most perfect, may have been a kid who sometimes said and did shit he shouldn’t have.  But whenever he and Jack touched anything that felt like so much, whenever Kent felt the weightiness to the moments, like he was taking on more responsibility, Kent let everything else fall to the wayside.  Kent tried to be as close to perfect as he could so that Jack, for once, didn’t have to be.  All Jack had to do was listen to Kent, to be good for him.  And Kent may have given Jack some things he had to work for.  But at the end of the day, Kent was always much, much more forgiving of Jack than Jack was of himself, and when Kent said that Jack had done enough, Jack could actually believe that he had.

The sheer amount of trust that Jack placed in Kent when it came to sex was something that was always there, though, even before they got into that kind of kinky stuff.  Even before they started exploring ways to give Jack alternative forms of release, even before Kent started realizing that hockey wasn’t much of a release for Jack at all, there was Jack letting Kent strip him down.  There was Kent taking Jack’s shirt off him, seeing and touching Jack’s skin when it was naked and bare, kissing Jack and reaffirming that Kent thought Jack was attractive, because somehow people hadn’t said that to Jack before.  There was the two of them stumbling through firsts together, because Kent was just as sexually inexperienced as Jack was, though Kent had touched boobs a few more times than Jack.  There was the first hint of all the things that they’d be doing in the future, was Kent’s cock in Jack’s mouth, Kent’s fingers tangled in Jack’s hair, and Kent accidentally tugging, Jack moaning and nearly giving Kent too much teeth.

There was the inherent vulnerability and intimacy in Jack letting Kent open him up for the first time, watching Jack’s face for what felt good.  In Kent blowing Jack, that day, with a finger inside, and saving more for later, for when Jack’s hole was a little more used to being stretched.  In finally letting Kent fuck Jack, on a night Jack’s parents were out, when Kent could take his time and go as slowly as possible, Jack all around Kent and under Kent and pressed so close.

Jack trusted Kent with a lot.

Kent doesn’t know if Jack thinks about sex the same way he used to.  Kent knows he doesn’t, for sure.  But something tells Kent that, for both of them, even now, having sex again would still require some measure of trust, trust that just isn’t there after everything that’s happened.  

If it would bring Jack back, if it would make Jack look at Kent the way he used to, even just for the briefest moment, Kent would fuck Jack in a heartbeat.  If it would make Jack honest, if it would make Jack’s feelings bleed onto his face, or reveal themselves in the release of tension in Jack’s body, Kent would do it.

Kent knows better than to think it works that way.  The impulse is there.  The wild urge in Kent’s chest.  The scene already writing itself in Kent’s head, Jack coming outside and the two of them leaning against the wall, the Kent in the daydream being much smoother than Kent really is.  Daydream Kent asking Jack if he’s got his own hotel room for the night with a carefully placed innuendo, to make it clear just what Kent was asking.

But if sex could fix anything at all, it’s something they would’ve done ages ago.  Kent’s thought it through before and always ended at the conclusion that this is one thing that sex could never fix, no matter how much he wants it.  If it could fix it, they would’ve known almost a decade ago how this ends, whether closure is deciding to part ways, deciding that too much has happened and that it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie, or whether there is still something there worth teasing out.  

Kent knows better at this point than to think that just a spark, a hint of what used to be there between them, is enough to go straight back to what they were.  It took him a very long time to get there, but he knows now that what they were doesn’t exist anymore, and a one-night stand while Jack is in town would not bring back something that just isn’t there. 

That doesn’t mean there can’t be something new, though.  Something to replace what was once there.  Something better for both of them.

The door creaks open, and Jack steps out, and Kent is surprised.  Kent is surprised when Jack hovers for a second, uncertain, before taking a seat next to Kent.  Kent is surprised when Jack meets Kent’s eyes like it isn’t something to be afraid of, like there isn’t any reason (in that moment, at least) for animosity or anger or disgust.

Jack looks nervous, and wary.  A little bit uncomfortable.  That makes two of them, really.  Kent’s tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his heart is racing in his chest, his stomach dropping.

“You wanted to talk,” Jack says.  

“Yeah,” Kent agrees.  “I do.”

Jack takes a deep breath before he looks at Kent, meets him in the eye.

“I think I finally do, too.”  

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](http://polyamorousparson.tumblr.com).


End file.
